


Choices

by Wolfchesters



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pining, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed, Threats of Violence, only very slight negan/reader at the moment, you are a feelings novice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfchesters/pseuds/Wolfchesters
Summary: Reader insert fic of the lead up to Glenn and Abraham's deaths and then the events after i guess





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to note that I have no idea where this fic is going so i dont know if there will be another chapter but if you like where its headed, let me know.  
> I have tried my best to keep Negan's character as close to the comics as possible and have taken a quote or two out of the comics themselves.

You aren’t scared of Negan. Sure he was intimidating as all shit but you aren’t afraid of him. You aren’t afraid of him because you aren’t afraid to die and that is all he has to hold over you. Sure he could threaten to kill one of your friends but you’ve been watching your friends die for quite a while so you had learnt the hard way how to compartmentalize your emotions. You aren’t scared of Negan but you sure as shit aren’t going to look him in the eye.

You stared at the dirt in front of you and listened to his eloquent speech about actions and consequences and all that power hungry shit he was spilling (the guy was nuts but at least he was well spoken). Your stomach plummeted to your toes when you heard him start walking down the line. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Negan point his wire wrapped bat at each of your friends in turn and your heart sank with each tell-tale sound of the man’s downward strokes.

Negan reached Abraham who was kneeling on your left and you barely heard what he was saying over the blood that was rushing in your ears. Negan side-stepped and you found yourself looking at his leather clad feet.

_Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up._

“What have we here?” you heard that loud and crystal fucking clear. “So what are you exactly? I mean I understand why the boy is here, but what role do you have?” Negan took a step back. “She yours too Rick?” Rick must have answered non-verbally because a moment later Negan was on one knee in front of you. You had to make a choice and you had to make it fast; you were in a perpetual argument with yourself. Would looking him in the eye be seen as a sign of respect or an act of defiance? Would he think you brave or stupid? If you kept looking at the ground like an idiot he might think you weren’t even listening and you really, _really_ did not want to be on his bad side right now.

Your predicament was rendered moot when two calloused fingers jerked your chin up so you were looking at Negan directly in the eye. His eyes were almost completely black save for a glint of rich, chocolate brown which was something you really should not be taking notice of right now.

“So?” Negan asked with a raised eyebrow and a sickly smirk on his face, “What are you doing out here, kiddo?”

You wanted to look away from his intense gaze but his hand was still holding your chin in place and you had nowhere else to look except right in his god damn eyes. The longer you stayed silent, the more the smirk slipped off Negan’s face and you knew that was a bad sign but you had been rendered utterly speechless by the blunt pressure being applied to your hip. The slight catching on your t-shirt told you that the pressure was Lucille and it was being pushed against you harder every second.

“Same as everyone else,” you said as calmly as you could but your voice still shook.

“And what’s that?” Negan growled out, the pressure at your side growing steadily harder to ignore.

“Enjoying the fresh air.” You regretted that immediately.

Without any warning, the wind was knocked out of you with one hard blow to the stomach from Lucille. You fell on to your back and drew in long ragged breaths, acutely aware of the stinging on your abdomen from where the barbed wire had pierced your flesh.

When Negan spoke, it was from further away than you expected. “Get her on her feet, Simon. I want her to have the best seat in the house.”

You were looking up at the sky when you felt two strong hands grab your upper arms and haul you to you your feet. You stumbled a few steps forward and then you were pushed back down on to your knees. You were in the middle of the clearing, facing the rest of your group but you didn’t look at them, you doubled over and placed both hands on the ground in front of you to better catch your breath. You turned your head to the right and saw Negan pacing in front Rick, whose eyes were fixed on you.

“Now,” Negan’s voice boomed in the silence, “You fuckers need to learn something and you better learn it real fucking quick; that kind of smart ass shit right there-“ he pointed at you and you shrunk under his gaze, “will not fucking fly with me. I am King Fucking Shit around here now and you better get that through your thick skulls quick smart or this shitty night will just be another in a long line of shitty nights just. Like. It.” Negan stressed each of the last three words by pounding the head of Lucille into the dirt. “I really don’t want this to last any longer than it has to because it is as cold as a witch’s tit in a brass bra out here and if I’m not balls deep in something hot and tight in the next hour I’ll turn into a fucking pumpkin.”

Negan came up behind you and you clenched your eyes shut as you felt two large arms, hard as iron, hook underneath your own and pull you to your feet again, those arms then snaked around your neck to pull you against his chest in what might have been a loving gesture had the circumstances been extremely different and if Lucille wasn’t now inches from your nose. Negan turned his face towards you, his nose brushing against your temple and he whispered in your ear, “I suggest you start behaving or I may just beat that attitude out of you, got it?”

The gravel in his voice sent a shiver up your spine that you couldn’t supress and you felt, rather than heard, Negan’s chuckle at your uncontrollable jolt. You stayed stock still and stared straight ahead, over the heads of the watching Saviors and into the darkness of the distant trees.

“Obviously I have a choice to make,” Negan’s voice blared in your ears, making you flinch, “but fuck me, it is just too damn difficult. So I have a better idea, this little ray of sunshine here,” he tugged you hard against his chest and your knees threatened to give way, “is going to make the decision for me.”

Your heart fell into your stomach and you felt bile rise in the back of your throat and your adrenaline suddenly peaked. You struggled against Negan’s hold on you but all he did was tighten his grip.

“Nu-uh, no you don’t. Slippery little thing, ain’t she Rick?”

You continued to struggle, not fully aware of where each of your limbs were but trying your hardest to make contact with the solid figure behind you. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew it was useless, but the flood of anxiety was clouding your judgement. You swung an elbow back with all the force you could muster and felt it collide with something firm. You had hit Negan in his side.

The arms around your neck retracted quickly, a spike of barbed wire grazing the side of your neck but you barely felt it as you were thrown forward on to the cold hard dirt. You heard several gasps from in front of you and, as if on instinct, you looked up, searching the familiar faces in front of you for Daryl. He was on all fours and his eyes were desperate and full of worry; you had never seen him look so afraid. Come to think of it, you had never seen him look afraid. You didn’t wasn’t to look away from him but your gaze faltered when you felt a warmth next to you; it was Negan. His tone was different when he spoke, almost caring.

“I understand, it’s a terrible thing to ask of you so I’m going to let that little outburst slide for now. It’s an impossible choice, I know, but unfortunately, you’ve given me no choice.” Negan rose from his knelt position next to you and unconsciously, your gaze followed him as he continued pacing up and down in front of your friends. He paused in front of Daryl, looked back at you and winked. The look on his face made you feel physically ill.

He resumed pacing.

“So!” the volume of his voice made you flinch. “Whose it gonna be sweetheart?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you have rough day back at Alexandria and make a personal discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the people who left such wonderful comments on the first chapter. This chapter is especially for you since i would not have written it without your encouragement.
> 
> Obviously the timeline of twd is mostly up for interpretation so i hope this is okay.

Negan’s question rang in your ears and you looked hopelessly at the scared faces of your friends who were knelt in front of you. Your eyes locked with Abraham’s and you found yourself never wanting to look away. You wanted to commit that shade of blue to memory and paint the whole damn world with it. You wanted to rewind back to the start and keep your mouth shut.

Abraham gave you a soft knowing smile and your heart shattered. Strong fingers had snaked their way around your soul and they were crushing it. You couldn’t breathe. You felt tears running you’re your face; fat and hot in the chilly air.

Abraham straightened his back and nodded at you. He was at attention, ever the soldier.

When you said it, it was barely more than a whisper: _“Abraham.”_

* * *

 You stood on the platform overlooking the front gate of Alexandria. It was two in the afternoon and the hot sun was beating down on you, sweat running in rivers down your back. This was the guard shift that no one wanted and you weren’t exactly in the position to be making trades.

Word had gotten out that you had been the one to blame for Abraham’s death. You were sure that words had been twisted and stories had been altered, but it didn’t matter. No matter how the story was told, the ending was always the same. You were to blame.

No one would talk to you. The looks you got from people who once respected you were now looks of disgust.

You heard someone climbing up the platform behind you. You heard the sound of someone climbing up the ladder behind you and you didn’t bother to look who it was until they were standing right beside you. When you looked to your left, you outwardly sighed.

“Unless you’re here to mop the sweat out of my ass crack then fuck off, Rick.”

“I probably deserved that.” Rick said, staring out at the road below him.

“ _Probably_? Rick, everyone here is avoiding me like the goddamn plague. You should see the way Eugene looks at me, it’s horrible. I wouldn’t have even been out there that night if you didn’t ask me to go with you.”

Rick turned away from the stretch of asphalt and looked at you with fire in his eyes. “Don’t you dare blame me for what happened. I didn’t force you to choose Abraham. That’s on you.”

The tone in his voice hit you hard, not unlike Lucille. “No, you didn’t, Negan did. But last I checked, you were the one who led the charge on Negan’s people in the first place. If you had just left well enough alone we wouldn’t be in any of this mess.” You stepped around Rick, refusing to make eye contact, and stepped down onto the first rung of the ladder. “I hope you don’t mind taking over my shift, I’ve got a whole heap of self-loathing to do and I’d hate to fall behind.”

When you reached the bottom of the ladder you walked down the street, ducking your head at the not-so-subtle looks that the other residents were throwing your way. You weren’t even going to bother trying to explain yourself to them; half of the people in Alexandria hadn’t even stepped foot outside the fences since they went up. They didn’t understand what it was like out there, they didn’t know what it was like to have another person’s life in their hands, and they couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of fear, doubt and frustration that was involved with taking another person’s life.

You debated trying to talk to Rosita and Sasha but the thought of looking into their eyes and seeing the betrayal for yourself, rather than just imagining it, was more than you could handle. They didn’t even know that it was all a terrible mistake.

You didn’t mean to choose Abraham. When you said his name, it wasn’t meant to be a decision. You were scared beyond belief and all you wanted was to feel some semblance of safety and comfort, so you looked to Abraham. You locked eyes with him and he looked at you like he knew that everything was going to be okay. He gave you a small, almost indecipherable nod, and in that moment, you wished you didn’t know what that meant. But you did.

When you said his name, you weren’t giving Negan an answer. You were calling out to Abraham, begging him not to do what you knew he would if you didn’t speak up. You never meant to choose, you never meant to give an answer. You didn’t mean any of it.

Once you pulled yourself out of your own thoughts, you realized you were standing on the edge of the lake that sat in the middle of Alexandria. You walked halfway around the lake and stepped onto the bridge that stretched over the expanse of glistening water. You leant over the railing and looked straight down. There were still various rotting body parts floating on the surface that no one had gotten around to fishing out after Daryl set the lake ablaze not one month before.

Daryl.

Your heart ached when you thought of him. You felt sick when you let your mind wander to where he might be and what might be happening to him.

The two of you were nothing special; you weren’t together, you were barely more than friends. Since coming to Alexandria and having the luxury of soft beds and warm showers, the two of you had grown closer. Early on, there was a mix up with sleeping arrangements after a late night guard shift and Daryl had ended up stumbling into the room you had claimed and refused to move when you tried to shove him out of your bed. He was stubborn and heavy so you accepted defeat and laid down next to him, falling asleep almost instantly.

Daryl was a quiet sleeper and stayed on his side so you didn’t have a problem sharing a bed with the man, and in any case, you found it easier to fall asleep when he was there. No matter how little it bothered you, the fact that you were sharing a bed was never discussed between the two of you, let alone anyone else. You figured that people knew since you were sharing a house with five other people (six when Morgan was there) so it wasn’t like you were keeping some sort of secret, but somehow it still felt weird to mention.

You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you and Daryl were. You were definitely friends, you knew that much. It is impossible not to become close with someone who has been a constant presence in your life for... shit. How long has it been since Atlanta? Since the farm? With the prison and Terminus it seemed that time was flying by but now, in Alexandria, it all slowed down to an unbearable pace. In Alexandria you had time to think whereas outside the fences, it was act first, ask questions later. Overthinking could sometimes be as deadly as the walkers

You followed the path of a severed forearm as it bobbed along the surface of the lake until you lost sight of it underneath the bridge. You thought about walking around the lake to fish it out when it hit the bank but you honestly couldn’t be bothered.

You stood on the bridge looking out over the water for an uncertain amount of time; all you knew was that when you started to think about heading inside for something to eat the sun was already starting to dip beyond the western fences. You sighed heavily and turned your back on the setting sun. You saw the old abandoned church in the distance and without really thinking about what you were doing, you crossed back over the bridge and started to walk toward it.

When you reached the church you noticed that the doors were shut and a note that said ‘ _morning mass moved to 8.30 am’_ had been tacked to the dark oak. You assumed that had been done by Gabriel and that he had gone home for the night, so you pushed open the doors and went inside.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were hoping to find. Perhaps you were hoping Gabriel would be here after all because now that you were actually inside the building, the silence was deafening and you felt the weight of judgement even though there was nobody around. You weren’t a religious person, even before the apocalypse, so seeking answers in church was the last thing you thought you would be doing.

You walked up the aisle – fascinated with the brightly colored shapes that the stained glass window cast onto the wooden floor – and chose a pew further away from the entrance so when you sat down, you were only a couple of rows away from the altar. If all else fails, at least you found a quiet place to sit. You placed your forehead on the pew in front of you, heaving a sigh and looking down at your boots. You really needed to clean them; they were covered in dried blood and so much dirt that you almost forgot that they used to be black instead of brown.

You weren’t sure how long you had been there when you heard a noise to your right that made you sit up so fast that you were sure you pulled a muscle in your neck. The first thing you noticed when you lifted up your head was that the light had long since disappeared; there was no light coming in from the high window except for the faint eerie glow that came from one of the only working street lights just outside.

The sound you heard was Father Gabriel emerging from a side door carrying what looked like a stack of old bibles. The stack was so large that it obscured his vision and he didn’t see you for a few seconds. “Oh,” he said, setting down the tattered books on the altar and taking a few tentative steps towards you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah.” The word came out as more of a laugh; your pitiful excuse to relieve the obvious tension in the room.

“Can I help you with something?” Gabriel asked, sitting on the edge of the pew across from you with his legs sticking out into the aisle.

“Not really sure,” you mused, looking absentmindedly up at Jesus, hanging from his cross. “I guess I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I’m kind of a pariah around here nowadays, you know, given what happened.”

“Ah, yes. I heard about that.”

You grunted in acknowledgment and the two of you fell into an uneasy silence. You wanted to tell Gabriel the things that were running through your head and you wondered whether confessions still remained confidential in the apocalypse.

“I think Daryl might be dead.” You didn’t say it expecting to get a response, you just wanted the weight of it off your chest. You were still looking up at Jesus, your eyes fixated on the strands of sculpted hair that were falling into his eyes from underneath his crown of thorns.

“You’re worried about him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“You care about him.”

“Yes.”

“Then you must have faith.”

You tore your eyes away from the true pariah and looked at Gabriel in surprise. “Faith? Seriously Father? No offense, but where exactly has faith gotten you?”

Gabriel simply smiled. “It got me here.”

You heaved out a frustrated sigh. “How is faith supposed to keep Daryl alive? Gabriel, there is no God, there is no such _thing_ as faith. There’s a ninety-five percent chance that Daryl is dead and there is nothing I can fucking do about it! I can’t go out and look for him, I can’t save him; none of us can. Negan has us backed into a corner and we are all well and truly fucked!” You were on your feet and out in the aisle without even realising that you had moved, and you were looking up at Jesus again. “Daryl is gone and I can’t fucking _sleep!_ I feel sick to my stomach when I think about where he might be and what those people might be doing to him because I didn’t even take the time to tell him th-”

No. No, no, no. That’s not right. Your breath was caught in your chest. You weren’t about to say-

“That you love him?”

You spun around to look at Gabriel again and he was still there, sitting on the edge of his pew, hands in his lap, as if you hadn’t just yelled a string profanities at him. You knew your eyes were wide but you didn’t have the sense to do anything about it. You rarely do have any sense after a shocking personal revelation.

“Wha-? No. We’re friends. We just –” You sat back down in your seat, this time facing Gabriel, and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. We’ve been sharing a bed for the past two months but that doesn’t mean that we’re together. I don’t know if it means anything because we’ve never even talked about it. It happened once and we just kind of let it keep happening.”

You looked at Gabriel desperately, knowing that you must look like an idiot.

“Maybe you never talked about it because talking about it would mean that it actually _did_ mean something.”

“I don’t follow.” You said stupidly.

“Perhaps you are scared. I gather from your reaction that being in love isn’t something you expected to happen.”

You paused for a moment before answering. “Well, no.” you looked down at your hands and began to wring them in your lap before snapping your head back up again. “Woah, hey! That doesn’t mean I’m scared.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said slowly, “then think about it. You love Daryl –” you gave him a pointed look, “sorry, let’s say – for arguments sake – that you love Daryl. How _does_ that make you feel?”

“It doesn’t matter how it makes me feel because I don’t _love_ him. I mean, I feel better when he’s around and it’s easier to sleep when he’s next to me but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well,” Gabriel pondered, “maybe that’s what love is; two people relying on each other for comfort and safety. Maybe that’s all love gets to be now.” Gabriel stood up and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. “All I’m saying is that you can’t ask the world to stop just because you have doubts.” Gabriel retracted his hand and walked back towards the front of the church, probably to finish doing whatever it was he was doing before you interrupted.

“Wait!” Gabriel turned back around, bibles in hand again and a kind expression on his face. “What if it’s all for nothing? What if he doesn’t love me back?” You knew you must have sounded pathetic but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

“Then he’s a fool,” and with that, Gabriel disappeared through the door to his right, leaving you alone again.

“Well, shit.”

You got to your feet, looked up at Jesus one last time and walked out of the church into the biting cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH i hate writing fics while the show is airing, especially when the fic is set at the same time. but there you go people of the internet. You asked, and you have received.  
> If you like this chapter, let me know and ill try and pump out another one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Dream_seeker. Your kind words hit me. This is probably shit cos i havent written in so long but what matters is ive started again and its because of you.

The walk from the church took longer than you thought. You had to backtrack all the way around the lake to get back to the main street running through Alexandria and the cold air was like ice on your exposed skin. You couldn’t believe how quickly the temperature had dropped, hours ago you were sweating like crazy and now here you are shivering like a little bitch. When you finally reached the short drive of the house you shared with Rick and the others you longed for the warmth you knew was behind the closed door. Your foot was on the bottom step of the porch when you stopped in your tracks.

What were you going to do when you got inside? Would Rick be there? Would he want to talk to you? And what if he wasn’t, would you just go upstairs to the bed you had shared with Daryl? How long would you toss and turn in the cold sheets before you finally gave up and ended up sitting on the stoop for the second night in a row?

Suddenly, you were fuming. You could feel the anger burning in the pit of your stomach. Anger at Negan, at Gabriel, at yourself, but mostly anger at Rick. It had been over two days since Daryl was taken and Rick hadn’t mentioned a single thing about rescuing him. How could he just abandon his best friend like that, how could he just sit around licking his wounds and blaming everyone else for his mistakes when he could be out there doing something about it?

Someone had to do something. You took another step and made your decision. 

You weren’t wrong about the warmth; it hit you like a wave when you opened the door. The house smelt like it always did: of lavender and coffee and gunpowder. For some reason you were surprised by this, perhaps you thought that Rick’s cowardice and betrayal would seep into the carpet like a bad smell.

You saw him almost immediately, he was sitting on the couch in the living room next to Michonne, they looked like they were having a pretty serious discussion but it was hard to tell because their voices stopped at the sound of you coming through the door. Rick looked around and you could tell he was going to say something to you but you didn’t find out what it was as you made a beeline up the staircase; you had a feeling he was going to follow you but you didn’t care. You went straight into your bedroom (Daryl’s bedroom?) and shut the door behind you. You pulled an empty backpack out from under the bed and started stuffing things in it without really thinking. Jackets, shirts and two pairs of jeans all went inside followed by a knife, a belt and Daryl’s old handgun. You took Daryl’s pack of smokes and a lighter out of the bedside table and put them in your back pocket before zipping the backpack, slinging it over you shoulder opening the door again.

You must have been fast because Rick was only just at the top of the stairs when you shut the door behind you. You had every intention of ignoring him and walking right back down the stairs but he caught your arm before you even put a foot on the top step.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

You ripped your arm out of his grip before grunting out a single word. “Hilltop.”

Rick visibly relaxed, “Oh, I thought you were going to storm into Negan’s compound singlehandedly or something.”

“No, not singlehandedly. I’m getting Jesus first.”

Rick tensed up again, “So you are as dumb as I thought you were.”

You felt the anger in your stomach bubble dangerously and you fought the urge to push Rick down the stairs. “Yeah, guess I am. Get out of my way.”

Rick took a sideways step to block the staircase, making it much easier for you to push him down, but again, you fought the impulse. “No,” said Rick, “I’m not letting you get yourself killed, and believe me, that’s what’s going to happen.” 

“Get the fuck out of my way, I’m just doing what you’re too much of a coward to do yourself. Its your fault that Daryl’s gone and if you’re not going to fix your dumbass mistake then I’ll do it myself.” You shouldered past Rick before he could stop you and took the stairs two at a time. You grabbed a set of keys you knew belonged to a reliable sedan before darting out the front door and setting off down the street towards the front gate.

It was a Thursday night, that meant Eugene was on gate duty, you figured it wouldn’t be much of a problem getting past him, he’d probably open the gate gladly if he knew you might die while you were gone. 

When you reached the sedan that was parked along the fence just inside the gate you shouted at Eugene to open the gate and just as you suspected, he did it without argument. As you drove out, you looked back in your mirror just in time to see Rosita on the top platform shouting animatedly down at Eugene and Rick running up behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Negan's character is incredibly hard to write because I so badly want him to have a sweet side but he just doesn't so it is nearing impossible for me to get what I want out of this story but let me know what you guys want.


End file.
